


happier times with the happiest to come

by MatildaSwan



Category: Holby City
Genre: Elinor Lives, Established Relationship, F/F, Ficlet Collection, Snow, The Hat - Freeform, Wheelies, or heelies sorry idk what they're actually called
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:45:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9830336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: Bernie and Serena are together, and happy, because they deserve to be.(Collection of unconnected ficlets from the #Elinorlives universe)





	1. Frosted Ponds and Beating Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> My submission to the Holby City fanfic content hosted by @lunacatriona
> 
> Also Idk what is is about this park but it's make a lot of appearances in my fics lately. Oh whelp ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Serena drives slowly on the icy streets as a fresh cloud-full of snow gently falls to the ground. She vaguely knows where she is, somewhere on the other side of Holby and close to Bernie’s flat. She reaches over to pick up the the map on the passenger seat: spies a few street signs and confirms she is where she is supposed to be. 

She starts looking around the streets, craning her neck in search of a familiar figure. She indicates and turns a corner; sees a rather tall and coat clad woman leaning against a brick wall with an umbrella dangling from her hand. Serena pulls up into a free parking spot, put on her fur hat, and gets out of the car.

Bernie looks up at the sound of a car. Smiles and pushes off the wall when she sees Serena pop up above the roof of her car and takes a few steps forward. Stops in the middle of the pavement and smiles: face extra bright and underlined by black wool. 

“I was beginning to worry you’d gotten lost,” Bernie jokes as Serena stops in front of her and pulls her in for a hug.

“Well, you’re directions got me here in the end,” Serena quips back as she lets go. “Though, they were very a bit jumbled. I can’t believe you don’t know where you live.”

“I know where I live, I just don’t know what any of the streets are called!” Bernie response, slightly defensive. 

Serena pins her with a stare and Bernie grins ruefully. Gestures toward her left, bowing her head slightly as she points Serena in the direction they should be walking. Serena smiles and fall into step beside Bernie and the trudge towards the end of the block: thick boots keeping grip on the sludge.

“Why did you bother bring that?” Serena asks as they walk, pointing towards the now tattered umbrella hanging limply from Bernie’s finger. 

“Well, it wasn’t that windy when I left the house!” Bernie replies, tone indignant. “But there was this one gust on the way here and it just sort of happened.” 

Serena laughs and Bernie huffs. Throws the umbrella in a nearby bin as they walk towards the park. 

“But why did you bring it at all?” Serena presses.

“I didn’t want us to get too badly snowed on,” Bernie mumbles, knowing it is a moot point now that the barely falling snow of the day has stopped completely. 

“Oh, that’s very sweet. But if you didn’t want to get me snowed on you shouldn’t have invited me out into the snow,” Serena quips, and laughs as Bernie’s makes a face at her infallible logic. 

They turn the corner, cross the road, and walk into an expanse of snow covered park: grass blanketed in white, trees iced with flakes, a frozen pond in middle and slightly off to the left. Serena notices a couple playing fetch with a dog in the far right corner but otherwise the park is empty: not even footprints in the snow, save their own as they slowly trudge towards the pond.

They are both a bit breathless by the time they stand on the wood planks of the bridge curved over the frozen water. The stop at the highest point of the arch — Bernie leans forward and rests her weight on the railings; Serena’s gloved fingers grip the bar leaving fingermarks in the ice —they look out over the park. 

“I see why you wanted to show me,” Serena says, breath misting in the cold air. She turns her face towards Bernie who looks back with big eyes. “This is lovely, thank you for sharing it with me.”

Bernie smiles: small and bright and a touch embarrassed. Looks as if she wants to say something but nibbles on her lip to bite back her words. Serena turns her attention back the view, knowing patience is usually the best course of action with Bernie. Bernie follows suit, looking over at the couple still playing with their dog. 

They stand in silence for several minutes. A few flakes of snow start to fall again. Then stop.

“You know, I missed the snow so much during my deployment. The rain too, and the cold,” Bernie says, looking out over the park. “Not that I hated the heat, you got used to it eventually, but it was constant and it made me miss the weather back home. Even though I’d grumble about never seeing the sun whenever I was homeside I’d still love it when it was cold.”

“It was strange, being in the Ukraine,” Bernie continues and Serena manages not to tense at the mention. “Being away from home but not sweltering. I was so used to sweating whenever I was abroad. But Kiev, it was cold. Except it wasn’t a comfort. It was cold like home but it wasn’t. Home, that it.”

“But now that I’m back here…” Bernie trails off: she might not have said “with you” but Serena hears it all the same. “The snow and the cold — it’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Serena agrees, looking at Bernie’s profile. The corners of Bernie mouth curls into a smile: she turns and Serena sees that wide thin smile that always reminds her of a puppy. Serena smiles back before turning to stare out over the view. Scuffs the toe of her shoe on the wood of the bridge before speaking.

“I’ve always loved the snow,” Serena says, still feeling Bernie gaze directed at her. “When I was a child I loved snowball fights and making angels and huffing in the air and pretending I was smoking.” Serena mimes inhaling; puffs out mist and giggles. “I love the brusque coldness and the excuse to wear layers of thick wool.” Serena pauses, looks up at the fluff on her head. “And any excuse to wear the hat, obviously.” 

Serena beams under her fur fringe: her face kitten that ate the cream smug. Bernie turns and lets out a bark. Leans over and bumps Serena shoulder with her own. Shuffles closer to bring their sides together, leaning on the railing again. Serena leans down too, keeping the crook of Bernie’s elbow pressed again her own. 

They look down at their hands, itching to tangle together. Serena looks up through long lashes and Bernie shivers. Serena notices and raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry, seems I’m a bit cold,” Bernie says, tone playful and loaded. “Perhaps you’d like to warm me up?”

“I think I can manage that,” Serena teases and turns to wrap her arms around Bernie’s waist.

She pulls their bodies together and tilts her face; looks up to see Bernie looking down. Serena raises her chin as Bernie drops hers: their lips meet, slightly chapped but still soft and warm. Serena tightens the hug and feels Bernie melt against her. 

Bernie’s fingers brush against Serena’s neck and up to dip under the band of her hat. She curls her fingers in Serena’s hair; knocking it onto the ground. Neither notice it rock back and forth on the wood planks before coming to a standstill as the snow starts to fall again.


	2. Wardround shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena is sick to the back teeth of Bernie and her god damn glittering wheelies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://midlifelez.tumblr.com/post/157391895905/inlovewithatraumasurgeon) and [this piece of fan art](http://toodrunktofindaurl.tumblr.com/post/147986721071/theoryofwar-milgramexperiment-tall-people)

Serena is sick of it. Serena is stick of it, of Bernie, with her constant bubbling energy and that infectious grin passing itself on the rest of the ward. Serena is sick to the back teeth of it, sick of not being able to keep up with Bernie zipping around their ward on wheelies.

It should be against health and safety, to wear them on the ward (expect that she checked and it isn’t — ruddy loopholed wording on sensible enclosed shoes that say nothing about the type of soul requirements). So rather than banning them from the ward, Serena puts up them, sick to the back teeth of Bernie and her god damn glittering wheelies.

So if one afternoon, she snaps, Serena cannot really be blamed. If one afternoon, when Bernie has gotten her scrubs completely covered in sick and runs off to the showers to change, Serena just so happens to be in the locker room, it really isn’t her fault. And if she just so happens to know Bernie’s combination, she cannot be blamed for helping herself to that pair of god damn ridiculous shoes. She really cannot be blamed for that, surely?  

Just as surely as she cannot be blamed for looking down at her down at her own feet, in sensible boring and black, and feeling a twinge of envy. Just as surely as she cannot be blamed for toeing off her shoes and slipping on a pair of thick socks she keeps in her locker for particularly nippy winter days. Just as surely as she cannot be blamed for easing her thickly wrapped feet into the glitter and gel decorated shoes, nor being absolutely thrilled to find the socks bulk out her feet enough to keep Bernie’s pair of too-big wheelies on Serena’s daintier feet. She cannot be blamed, obviously, because it was meant to be.

Serena stands, and flicks the wheels out; almost falls flat on her arse. Gathers herself up and tries again: manages to zip along and crash into the lockers. Rights herself again and sets off towards the window: catches herself on the wall before she does herself some harm like fly through the window.

She laughs at her own foolishness, but cannot deny she enjoys her flailing attempts: they remind her of teaching Elinor to skate when she was a child. (She thinks of her daughter, alive and well and back-packing on her semester off. She wonders what part of Europe Ellie is in right now.)

She is about to set off towards the side lockers when the door opens when Bernie walks in—shoeless feet in only her socks and surgery booties. Bernie stops when she sees Serena but Serena, having already pushed herself off the wall, cannot stop herself careening into the far lockers.

She makes contact with a large crash and almost falls to the ground. Would have done, if it weren’t for Bernie’s strong hands on her hips catching her. Serena gets to her feet steady on the floor and looks over her shoulder at Bernie. She looks at Bernie looking at her with bewildered sparkling eyes.

A smile twinges at Bernie’s lips until they are pulled wide and wolfish in a huge grin. Serena feels a smiles grow on her own face and a bubble of laughter float up her throat. She giggles and Bernie guffaws. Serena turn until they are facing each other, Bernie’s hands still on her hips. Serena wheezes and Bernie honks: they are both red faced by the time they manage to calm themselves down.

“I thought you hated them?” Bernie queries.

“I do!” Serena says with feeling.

“Right,” Bernie replies wryly, "hate them enough to want a go?”

“Well,” Serena starts, nibbling on her lip. “A little? But I’m not very good at it.”

“I noticed.” Bernie has dryness in abound today. She takes a step back, her hand falling off Serena’s hips. She holds out her arm to Serena. “Come on then.”

“What?” She cannot be suggesting what Serena thinks she is, can she?

“Come on,” Bernie repeated, flapping her hand. Oh, gosh, Serena thinks, apparently she is.

Serena reaches forward to take Bernie’s hand. She feels a tug and latches on with both and find herself being pulled along by Bernie’s strong service hardened arms and guided out of the locker room.

She giggles as Bernie reaches the door. She doesn’t stop moving forward and bumps into Bernie’s behind as she pulls the door open. Bernie keeps it wide open with her foot, looks over her shoulder at Serena, and smirks.

“Ready?”

Serena nods with resolves and smiles. “Lead the way.”

Serena giggles the whole way up the corridor, trailing behind Bernie as her long stork legs stride up the ward towards their office. God damn ridiculous shoes, indeed.


End file.
